To speak truth with a forked tongue
by jarec
Summary: A young brujah learns the hard way that one should not deal with Snakes


WARNING: THE FOLLOWING IS BASED OFF OF WHITE WOLF'S VAMPIRE:THE MASQUERADE. THE CHARACTERS ARE MY OWN, BUT THE CLANS AND SUCH AREN'T. INFORMATION ABOUT SETITES, THEIR BELIEFS, AND THEIR PATHS COMES FROM HTTP: KICKASS SITE.   
To speak truth with a Forked Tongue 

OR

To be seen, now, through glasses darkly 

**I **

Ace swaggered into the bar, his leather jacket and biker boots immediately setting him apart from the upper-class types who normally worked hard to keep such 'undesirable types' far away from here. The rest of his look didn't seem to impress them either. His hair was a black mohawk, and he had numerous piercings and scars, but he was wearing a tie (albeit one with the slogan 'fuck you' emblazoned on it). He'd worn it so the pigs couldn't toss his ass out for violating their precious dress code. Still, they didn't seem to appreciate the gesture, muttering when they thought he couldn't hear about 'filthy rabble'

The young Brujah smirked. Like he gave a rats ass what these pigs thought. First off, he'd been invited by one of their own (as far as they knew), and second, they were crypto-fascist swine who were better off dead. That way the body politic could be purged, and rebuilt into a utopia, such as Carthage had been. Or at least that's what his sire, Morgan, had told him, and he had no reason to doubt the old girl yet. Two hundred years old and seven generations away from Caine, yet trapped in a sixteen year olds body. _Poor bitch, well at least she's old enough to drive. That's something, anyway_ he thought.

His sire…

She didn't know he was coming here, didn't know about the written invitation that'd been delivered to him (well, technically, it had been taped to a brick that some bastard had chucked through his window, but it had been delivered). He was pretty sure she wouldn't have approved, what with the way she ranted about how almost all the other Clans were pricks, wusses, or crypto-fascists (she'd actually called 'em "imperialist aggressors", but Ace figured this was a case of same diff) and that they only got in the Brujah's way. They were usually too caught up in their own power games to see how much good Kindred could do for Kine society, if they could guide it just right.

He thought back to the night, twenty years ago now, when they'd had that talk.

"ain't just Brujah out there Ace. Lotsa other Kindred, and most of 'em ain't worth shit. Oh, a couple of 'em are awright, I don't say otherwise. The Gangrel mainly keep themselves to themselves, but if you can find one that'll really listen, they can usually see what we're trying to do, and may actually help out. The Nosferatu're so ugly that they're more victims than anything else, and need our help more than the Kine do. Plus, they got eyes and ears everywhere, and can tell you just about anything. The other clans, though, are mostly worthless or worse, though some of the individuals might be worth something

Ventrue're aristocratic bourgeoisie (AN: I know, contradiction in terms. Just trying to simulate typical fuzzy ideological garbage). They're the bastards who fucked us over way back when and destroyed Carthage. Never trust a damn one of 'em. Toreador are useless. They might go along with a cause if its fashionable, but don't expect 'em to ever do anything, or to stick if you fall outta style. Tremere are too damn secretive about their own shit, but tell something to one of 'em and you might as well tell all of 'em. The Malkavians are damn loonies,. Best keep away from 'em, but don't start trouble less you gotta; aint' there fault.

An' those're just the ones in the Camarilla! They at least agree that the Kine shouldn't be pointlessly slaughtered, unlike those monsters in the Sabbat. Lasombra're like Ventrue, only worse. You can tell one because it ain't got a reflection. Tzimisce… here his sire, who had stared down a Lupine (admittedly while backed by two gun-toting ghouls) shivered they're fiends. All you gotta know.

There're a couple others. Assamites're blood-crazy mercs, and would just love to get a nice plump 8th generation neonate. Ravnos're all petty crooks and liars. Giovanni're so isolationist they rarely even leave Italy so you can forget 'em. As for the Snakes, STAY AWAY AND DON'T EVER TALK TO 'EM! That's pretty much it,I guess…

He'd always wondered why she'd been so firm about the Followers of Set (snakes), and why she'd never told him more. As the years went by, he'd heard stories about the Setites, as he had about the other Clans. But since he'd never yet met a Snake, he didn't know how much was true and how much was just bullshit. From the looks of things, he was gonna find out. His 'appointment' was sitting at a corner table, holding a walking-stick topped with a silver cobra.

**II**

Ace took a moment to look at his 'friend', who called himself Asmodeus (typical Snake arrogance Ace sneered mentally). He didn't look like what a Setite was supposed to look like. He was white (pallid, actually) for one thing, in a Clan which was almost exclusively middle-eastern or occasionally black. His features looked vaguely Eastern European, with mid-length black hair he wore swept back. He was dressed in a white suit and tie, with a black shirt underneath, all of which was totally immaculate, and went nicely with his slim build. Setites, according to Ace's limited knowledge, were mainly drug-dealers and pimps, usually dressing the part. He was, however, wearing the mirrored shades, which were pretty much a symbol of the Clan most sensitive to light.

Ace belated noticed the second figure , standing behind the first. Taller, and more heavily muscled, in a black suit and white undershirt, he looked every inch the bodyguard. He was black, and wore no shades, but had some kinda mirrored contact lenses.

For his part Asmodeus (which wasn't even his outer name, a long way from his temple-name, and not even the same language as his name-under-Set) looked at the neonate before him with no surprise at all, and more than a little veiled contempt (which Ace of course failed to notice). Typical Rabble he thought, using the contemptuous nickname for the argumentative Brujah clan, dress to unimpress seems to be a clan motto. Along with 'shoot first, and questions too late' and 'agreement is for our betters'. I cannot BELIEVE Morgana DuChampagne (AN: Not a joke. Champagne is a region of France, hence nobles from there would be du Champagne. I think), key player of the Revolution, chose to Embrace THAT, much less let it live. Well, knowing her, it should at least have a glimmer of intelligence, just enough to serve but not enough to be difficult to use.

Asmodeus forced a smile onto his face, knowing from long practice that it would look completely natural and friendly. "Ahh, Ace, welcome welcome! Sit with me won't you? The barman here is a ghoul of mine and he keeps a 'special reserve' for my friends and me. I realize you have already fed, but this is something special, I'm sure you'll agree. There are two vintages, the old and the young. The old is basically 'excess' from the local bloodbank. The young is drained fresh from a few 'missing' street urchins."

Ace came and sat, flopping down in the antique, leather-padded chair with as little grace as he could muster, and grunted "young".

Well to use an oh-so-handy Americanism 'that's that' Asmodeus thought

"Ahh, thank you. I prefer eyes at a level, you see. I know we are supposed to be beyond troubles of the body, but I still suffer from stiffness in my neck if I have to look up for very long. I suppose it takes time for the Embrace to work completely, and I just have to wait." He sighed "I see you glance at my associate, Karl. I apologize, but you ARE 8th generation, far beyond me, and you have quite a reputation as a warrior. I'm ashamed to be so untrusting but in these troubled nights one cannot be too careful"

There, That ought to set the correct tone. Asmodeus had planned this little speech in advance. It served several purposes. First, it established his 'friendliness', vital to any act of manipulation or corruption. Second, it gave Ace the impression that he was the stronger and more dangerous one here, and that Asmodeus himself was very newly Embraced. Third, it was a sop to the young idiot's arrogance. All went to plan, judging by the look on Ace's face.

"Yeah, well, we Brujah are the toughest Clan there is, and I'm one a the baddest motherfuckers in all a Reno, if not all of Nevada. Still, I gotta say your friend there…" he paused unwilling to spoil what he'd just said by admitting the black man made him nervous. Inspiration struck "probably should stay back a bit. After all, if someone comes gunnin' for either of us, he'll have a harder time hittin' him and me both if we're apart". Ace smiled, satisfied that he'd covered nicely. Who says I can't think on my feet? Lookit 'em. Little bastards eatin' outta my hand.

"Oh yes. My apologies but I have little experience in such matters. Which is not to say I'm totally helpless, of course! Why, just last night I tore a man apart when he tried to mug me. Can you imagine it? Poor fool never saw it coming" Asmodeus said, knowing his pathetic boast would cement Ace's judgement that the Setite was no threat to him. He turned to his bodyguard. He addressed him in the tongue of the Followers of Set, which had been forgotten by the Kine millennia ago.

"He-who-guards-us-all" he said, using the bigger man's Temple Name "the young fool is obviously frightened by your presence. We both know he is no threat to me, so could you please watch the door from the other side of the room? It would not do to have his sire appear to disrupt things. Not yet, anyway" Asmodeus was careful in how he phrased the request. The guard followed the Setite Path of The Warrior and as such was obligated to protect fellow Setites, not obey them. He would however, obey orders he approved of.

"certainly" he said, proving he approved of this order at least "but tell me Speaker-of-half-truths, should we not have been speaking the local tongue? We both speak it well, and I would have followed the reasoning if you had phrased it correctly"

"Ahh, but there was a small chance yon head-of-dung would have understood what I was REALLY saying. Also, by speaking our own tongue before him, he believes I show I trust him, and that by extension I can be trusted. Finally, it always pleases me to say what I really think if idiots like this one when I know that they cannot comprehend. Now, please, he grows impatient. And try to look reluctant, as though worried to leave me alone with him"

"Hmmph!" 'Karl' said, surpressing a laugh by disguising it as a grunt, all the while glaring at Ace "I would be worried to do so if I cared at all about this runt. You're going to eat him alive, while he thanks you for the favor, aren't you?" Asmodeus answered with a slight smile, very much like that of a shark. Inasmuch as he liked anyone he liked Karl. The man was coming to the end of his journey along the Path of the Warrior, and would soon be looking to begin one of the more intellectual and spiritual paths. Asmodeus approved, finding in the bigger man a keen mind and genuine devotion to Father Set.

Karl took his leave, shooting Ace one last threatening look, and a worried glance at Asmodeus. Ace smirked, knowing that without the big man, he'd be able to handle Asmodeus. No sweat. Asmodeus vented his pleasure in a timid grin. He loved this, the subtle mental and psychological game intrinsic in manipulation and corruption both. Tonight was a little of each, combining his favorite activities. To hell with blood he'd often said THIS is what I live on. With Karl gone, the warm-up was over and the REAL game could begin.

**III**

The vitae cocktails arrived, delivered by a young blonde waitress who smiled at Asmodeus, a longtime customer and noted tipper. He returned her grin with one of his own, pleased to see she had resisted recruitment into the call-girl operation his Temple-sister, who went by 'Shasti', ran for the city's elite. True purity is so rare these days. So many fail the test, though that too is necessary. "Two of Patrick's serpentine specials please, Melinda. One Old and one Young

This same 'pure' waitress shot Ace a look far more menacing than the one he had received from Karl. Ace raised his eyebrows, stuck out his tongue and wiggled it laviciously. Stuck up bitch. Probably doing the boss, so she thinks she can get away with treatin' customers like shit.

"Well, now, shall we get down to business?" Asmodeus asked, expecting the answer to be yes.

"Not just yet.

Asmodeus was slightly surprised. Neonates were generally impatient even if they were of Setite stock. When they were Brujah, a clan famous for impulsive and rash behavior, it was virtually impossible to restrain them. "Why not? Surely you trust me? Did I not place my safety entirely within your hands?"

"Yeah, you did, and if you were Ventrue, Toreador or like that, I'd be ready to get on with things. But you ain't; you're a Setite, and that means you can't be trusted"

Asmodeus sighed. He had no need to feign annoyance here. That idea had hurt his plans more times than he cared to count. "Ahh, the old stereotype. The Setite as corrupter, the Serpent in the Dark Eden of Kindred existence. When will people learn that stereotypes are usually based on unusual cases? Certainly there have been a few bad Setites, but trust me , most of us are not out to destroy the world one Cainite at a time. We simply view vampires as having a different place in the world than the ones presented by Camarilla or Sabbat, and so are anathema to both" .

"All of which is exactly what you would say if you were out to fuck me over. Gonna need to do better than that, Azzie"

Azzie! Impertinent whelp, you will pay for that! Outwardly he kept his composure, and put on a sickening expression that suggested he was eager to please "What, then would satisfy you as to my veracity and sincerity in this matter?"

"Well, if all that was just you asking what you can do to get me to trust you a bit, then its funny you ask. I just so happen to have a Blood Contract here, which guarantees you aren't gonna tell me anything but the truth. Sign it, and we can get on with things. Don't and I blow this pig-pen." He pulled the paper out of his jacket and handed it to the Setite.

Far from being angry or frustrated, Asmodeus was pleased. He'd been afraid this would be to easy, and any task that was easy was paltry service to Set. As it was, things had become interesting indeed. If he signed the contract in his own blood, he would be unable to lie on pain of magical death. His own blood would burn him to death, as the magical contract exercised the Thaumaturgy it had been imbued with by its Tremere creator (AN: That IS how it works, right?) So, a choice: Think of a way to convince Ace that the contract was unnecessary or sign it, and hope that his skill with the truth would be up to the challenge (not for nothing had a rival named him "Speaker-of-Half-Truths). One look at Ace's determined face was enough to rule out option 1.

"Very well, it seems I must go to great lengths to prove myself. Such is the pain of being Embraced into so misunderstood Clan as the Followers of Set" He signed, his blood tingling slightly as it was drawn from his veins into the pen. His entire body was suddenly jolted, as though by a large static shock, as the enchantment descended upon him. "Now can we talk?""

Ace smirked and spread his arms wide "Talk away amigo, I'm safe now"

A minute ago I thought you might be a worthy adversary. Pity you just ruined that impression. How on earth did you live, even as long as you have, without learning that the truth is more dangerous than any lie. "Hmmm. Well, now to business, then." At this point Asmodeus subtly activated the vampiric discipline of Presence. Not much, just enough to subconsciously effect Ace's perceptions without his knowing it, making the Setite's words even more convincing. He then launched himself on what some would call his schpiel.

**IV  
**

" I will be blunt. The Followers of Set do not appreciate having a Camarilla Prince in Reno. We made this state, and this city, what it is. We have a great deal invested here, and we do not wish to see it interfered with. Moreover, where you find the Camarilla, the Sabbat will not be far away, especially here. Mexico City is their greatest stronghold outside Eastern Europe, and that just hours from here. We have always existed in an uneasy peace, but this prince Carmen will threaten it. A war between her and the Sabbat is inevitable, and would disrupt our business and endanger us."

Ace didn't follow . "I know that Vegas is like, the greatest Setite city in America so I can see why you're worried. But whattaya talking to me for? Ain't like I got the Princes ear or nothin'; the voices in her head do"

The idea was almost as crazy as the Prince herself. One of a handful of Malkavians to ever rule a city under the Camarilla in its 6 centuries of existence, Carmen's insanity took the form of disembodied voices, which she believed were coming from Caine himself! She had followed these voices to absolute power over Reno, though, so who knew…

"Of course not. She would never listen to reason, nor would we attempt it. After all, what could we say but 'Excuse me your highness, but my Clan and I really feel it would be best for us if you and the Camarilla left Reno'? She'd have us sunbathing the next day! No, what we need is for someone to lead the Anarchs of this city against her."

"The Anarchs?" Ace was confused. The Anarchs were renegades, mainly neonates and Caitiff, who claimed allegiance in neither Camarilla or Sabbat. They viewed both tools of the Elders in their eternal war against one another, the Jyhad. Consequently, they had nothing but contempt for either Sect and lived on their own. Most west-coast cities were Anarch-controlled, although San Francisco had been regained by the Camarilla, and the Sabbat was making headway in Los Angeles. "Why them? Judging by Karl there you guys got the muscle. And none a this explains why you're talking to me." Ace was confused, and a little scared. If one of Carmen's Justicars got wind of this conversation he was a dead man- AGAIN.

AN: Sorry to break in, but because of convoluted half-truths and omissions, I will be using Asmodeus' thoughts on the matter as proof that he does not actually lie even once

"We are planing on using the Anarchs because they are numerous and angry. They used to control this city, and we were happy with that arrangement. We do not seek power, merely a restoration of the status quo antebellum" All true

" As for why we are talking to you, several reasons.

First, we need a combat-hardened leader for the Anarchs , someone who can fight well and LEAD well. Second, the leader must be able to blend with his troops. Since most non-Caitiff Anarchs are Brujah, I thought you might be a good choice" Briefly, before I found someone better. Don't worry though, you'll still be useful to us. "My associates agreed that you were perfect for our needs" Not this one though!

Ace accepted the extremely flattering answers, puffing up visibly. But he still shook his head "Yeah, probably. But still, Clan Brujah is part of the Camarilla. My own sire'd lead a Blood Hunt against me.

Nail my ass to the wall herself for spoilin' her plans for the rev-" Ace cut himself off. Why was he telling a Snake about the Plan? Never mind, why was he seriously listening to a Setite?

"Which just leaves us with the little matter of why the fuck I should believe any a this. I know you can't lie, but that don't mean I can believe that what yer tellin' me is right. You could be wrong, or your bosses could be lyin to you, or…"

Asmodeus sighed. Time to add a bit of revelation to the mix "Ace, I said before that we Followers of Set were the most misunderstood of the Clans. Here's why. Everyone thinks we're a rigidly organized bunch of fanatics, dedicated to overthrowing the world in the name of some shadowy demon-god. The truth is, there's only a nominal hierarchy these days. While our Elders from the fourth generation are still around, and technically are supreme, they have not left the House Of Set in Uganda in a very long time. They have little to know understanding of the modern world, least of all the New World. So, while they dictate broad policy, Setites pretty much run their own affairs. Most Setites don't even follow Set, and those who do are not generally interested in overthrowing the world. Personally, I see us-all of us Kindred – as part of a balance. You cant have day without night, nor life without death. The place of the vampire is to be the dark beneath the light, the storm beyond the calm. We Setites are testers."

Ace was now thoroughly confused. "testin' what?"

"We test the innocent. Innocence is no achievement; humans are born innocent. To be pure, to be good means to have faced temptation and resisted. To have been tested, and to have passed. True purity is rare, and we do much to ensure it IS true purity, and not mere innocence or hypocrisy. Even when the individual fails we are pleased, as that too is part of the Balance" A fine way of thinking. Too bad not all of us share it.

In fact, Asmodeus had summarized only his factions view, that of the Ecstatics. He'd omitted mention of the other 'spiritual' path, the Path of Typhon, which upheld corruption for its own sake, and believed that only when the world was prepared for his coming could Set return to his followers. Personally, Asmodeus felt that the Dark Father had sufficient power to return any time he chose, and nothing the Followers did would speed or hinder that return. Set had set his children to test the Kine, and test them they would. But none of this was very important to the situation. Asmodeus was merely stalling.

Suddenly Ace began to feel odd, weak and disoriented in a way that should really be impossible for Kindred. He reeled in his seat, and his gaze was unfocused. "Whaaa… Wha'dja do ta me Azmodusss?"

"What did I do?" the Setite put on a curious expression. Almost there my little pawn "Why, I invited you here, sat you down, ordered you a- OH" False insight, a grotesque caricature of one who has gotten an idea "You mean why are you feeling as you do! Well, that's easy enough. I drugged your drink, you little idiot. Honestly, any Cainite with an ounce of sense would have declined the drink, or insisted I taste it first"

Ace lunged at Asmodeus, but the Setite threw him aside with a backhanded blow. Ace lost consciousness.

**V**

The world slowly came back to Ace, and when he saw where he was, he dearly wished it hadn't. He was hanging by his arms in a slaughterhouse, buck naked. The only light in the place was directly overhead, and created a circle of light around twelve feet in diameter. He couldn't look up (his neck was hurt from the Setites final blow) but judging from the pain, he guessed the Snakes hadn't bothered with a rope, opting instead to jam meat hooks through the palms of his hands. It being night, the place was empty but the smell of offal, shit and animals was everywhere. Bad enough, but overlaying it all was the smell of blood., coming from underneath the killing floor. Aces injuries made him hungry, and the blood smell was driving him crazy. He needed blood to heal his injuries, to clear his head, and to give him the strength to get out of here. Blood could be his salvation and it was everywhere but he couldn't get at it! He struggled against his chains, knowing they wouldn't break, but desperately needing to do SOMETHING.

"Ahh. Awake at last, are we? Good, good. I was afraid for a little while there that you might have gone into Torpor, and that wouldn't do. Not yet." Ace recognized that voice. If he lived to be a thousand years old and become a Methuselah, he'd remember that voice.

"Asmodeus" He growled "if that is your real name"

"Of course its not" the Setite replied cheerfully "Do you think I would tell you my real name? That would compromise our test, and my safety"

"Test! What test! What the FUCK are talking about you lying sack of shit? I swear when I get outta these chains I'm gonna force feed you your own organs, an' stick one end of your guts in your lying mouth 'til you drown in your own crap!"

"You're hardly in a position to be uttering threats my friend. As for the test… do you recall our drink options? THAT was your test. You had an opportunity to feed on blood that was donated, thus harming no one. You chose to have a child ex-sanguinated to provide you with nourishment you didn't really need. THAT was your test, and you failed. The Old vintage would have been harmless, and had you selected it, I would have offered to hire you as a bodyguard for a client of mine. A shame in a way, as brainless muscle work seems to be your forte"

"So you'd planned this from the moment I sat down. Then what was all that bullshit about a war against the Prince, huh!" Ace was beginning to get really scared. He couldn't see a way out of this one. "And how the fuck were you able to lie to me! The contract…"

Asmodeus interrupted smoothly, not even raising his voice "…remains in force, sadly. I cannot lie to you. However, I never have. We ARE looking for someone to lead an Anarch revolt against that babbling lunatic, but you aren't it. While you are strong enough to gain the Anarch's respect, possess a working knowledge of squad-level strategy, and would fit in quite nicely with Anarch's, you simply lack the intelligence to run such a war. I thought for a time that you might be coached through it, but then I found someone who could do so on his own. So you were unnecessary. However, my brethren pointed out that you would be perfect for another scheme I have going, so here we are."

Ace hung his head, bereft of hope. He thought he'd been so damn smart, getting a Tremere Blood Contract before meeting the Setite, but he'd been duped like a child even so. "so, what happens now?"

"Now, we get you to tell us where your sire is hiding. Once we have her, we will auction you both off to the highest bidder"

"Auction us off?"

"Oh yes. I have already received enquiry's from the Assamites, natural enough given your advanced generations. I have also had offers from a group within the Black Hand called True Brujah, though I have yet to discover what that refers to. Perhaps you have heard of Bishop Delgado, of El Paso? She is a Nosferatu antitribu who is seeking to raise her own generation, in preparation for conflict with something called Nikutu, another annoying mystery. These are just the ones who are interested in diablerizing you. We have had offers from some wanting you for other purposes but we do not intend to accept"

"Why not?" Ace asked. Almost anything would have been preferable to diablerization. The process in which one Kindred drained another of their blood to gain their power and lower their own generation was rumored to also take away the victims soul.

"Because we have plans. You see, I am going to inject a very potent narcotic into your blood. You'll quite like it, actually. Its fresh from one of our private drug labs, and I'm told the effect is ten times better than a heroin high, a well as fourteen times as addictive. A large dose, such as would be in your blood, will produce a physical dependence immediately. Take heart, Ace. In death, you will turn your killer into our slave. A small bit of revenge. Better than nothing, eh? Since we intend to sell you to Delgado, you will be responsible for the downfall of a major player in the Sabbat-Camarilla war. Who knows? Your own sect may make you a hero after you die. In fact" Asmodeus continued, in the tones of a feudal lord granting a favor to a serf "I will see to it. Ace the Brujah, Trojan horse. You'll live forever, Ace, even if not quite how you'd hoped. Consider it my thanks for a surprisingly interesting contest. You were a lot smarter than I thought you'd be"

"Doesn't matter. Not gonna tell you where Morgan is, Snake. I ain't gonna let down the Revolution."

Asmodeus sighed "I expected this, though I'd irrationally hoped it wouldn't come. You will tell us, Ace, because we will make you tell us. Set is coming, and we'd like him to find us ready for him, so we don't have time to waste. I'd like you to meet someone. Maestro, if you would?"

At his cue a figure emerged from the darkness. It was white, like ivory, far paler than any Cainite Ace had ever seen. Its head was misshapen, stretched out it back, and totally hairless. It had no nose, merely small slits that probably served as nostrils. Its mouth was filled with small, needle like teeth. Its eyes were slits, yellow with small cats-eye pupils. Its hands were the only other part of it not covered in black leather, and they were equally horrifying, though different from one another. The fingers on the right hand were far too long and thin, around seven inches long. The ones on the right were claws, similar in shape to a butchers carving knife, and clearly were very sharp. The thing was obviously a product of the Tzimisce art of Fleshcrafting, more formally called the discipline of Viscitude.

"You-you-you're a FIEND! A FUCKING FIEND! OH GOD!" At this point Ace lost what little control he had regained. To be fair to him though, the Tzimisce mastery of pain and torture was the subject of a great deal of legend, particularly in a city this close to Mexico City, and from that legend, he knew any resistance would be temporary. Essentially, the Tzimisce's presence told Ace that all he had to look forward to was pain, mutilation, betraying his sire and her cause, diablerization, and having his soul slowly rot away inside some Sabbat bitch. Not exactly ideal circumstances for heroics.

Still, he steeled himself. Maybe if he held out long enough Morgan could figure things weren't right. She wouldn't find him, not if the Snakes worked at hiding him (this was THEIR state, after all) but maybe she could get out of town. It wasn't much, but he'd take it. Just gotta hold out, that's all. Recite the states. Alaska, Alabama…

The Maestro began its work with a lateral incision, using the left claw, into Aces scrotum.

Ace held out a grand total of two days, six hours, seventeen minutes, forty-three seconds, impressing even the Maestro with his fortitude and his screaming. Morgan did not escape

**EPILOGUE**

The 'bidding' was set to begin in a few minutes. Asmodeus fussed with his tie, determined to get it perfectly straight. True, the winner of the two drugged Kindred had long ago been decided. Soon Delgado, El Paso, and therefore the border with Mexico would be under Setite control. Then drug and armament shipments would escalate, in preparation for the Anarch revolt against Carmen. If Delgado chose to diablerize the two. This was after all, her test, and if she passed by not draining them, the Setites would simply have to pay to smuggle what they needed in from their Haitian stronghold. But, somehow, Asmodeus did not think that would be necessary. He might not know what Nikutu were (yet) but he knew Delgado was scared, and would be desperate to increase her powers.

He sighed to himself. There were so many in the world who needed to be tested, to be judged as pure or corrupt, that it sometimes seemed his work would never end. He smirked. Oh Set, I hope not. Like I've said before THIS is what I live on!

Confident, he decided the tie was straight enough, dammit, and strode into the main room. "Ah, vizier Aman, Bishop Delgado! SO pleased you could both make it! I trust you're enjoying your stay in our fine city? Why Vizier, is that a new turban? May I say it looks positively…."

**END**

AN: I love the world of Darkness (even though Ive never played- I'm in Israel, and there just ain't that many gamers here-SIGH)

I have a couple ideas for other stories. I'll decide which one to do first based on what you people say in your reviews, SO REVIEW DAMMIT!

Hunka, hunka Undead Love: Elvis Presley, Caitiff, Autarkis, and lounge singer, takes on the Setites of Vegas (Not Asmodeus) with a Toreador Elder as his sidekick note: might take me a while to start writing

The war against Carmen: Tzimisce renegade Dmitri Cjelli is hired by the Setites to lead their war. On the way through California, he has to make a stop to fix his ride. In a small town called Sunnydale…

A Werewolf/Card Captors crossover. Basically, a long-ago promise from the Red Talons to Clow Reed to protect his successor results in a most unusual houseguest for Sakura Working title: 'Guardian/Beast'

Carmen's Rise: Guided by the Voice of Caine, a young Malkavian neonate conquers Reno, Nevada.

I would like to thank Thom from Grand Rapids, Michigan the Old White Guy for turning me on to Vampire, and the whole world of Darkness while he was at Hazorea. This story is either his fault or to his credit, depending on how you see it. This one's dedicated to you, man, so if you read it, gimme a review, and possibly send me your e-mail (if you like). Mine's in my profile. We missed you on the kibbutz, just wasn't the same after you'd left. You and 'Chick with wings' were the only ones to come visit us poor Ulpanists with any regularity.

To te rest of you, READ AND REVIEW (Asmodeus knows where you live)


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